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Jul 2 · 57
A Look Into Myself
You’re pushed aside and crying on repeat
with hushed lies sliding on the beat
of your hearkened heart.
You deny and deny the need to eat
with the compulsion to not buy
into the greed disguised as art.
You condemn the hate but can’t see the fake
staring back when you gaze into the lake.
June 30, 2020: Before I can truly help anyone else, I have to pull myself out of the mud first; a drowning person can’t be a lifeguard at the same time. After all, I am just a flower looking to bloom through metal.
Jun 22 · 150
CRITICAL POINT
Suppressed, depressed, much stress
on my chest, missing my breaths.
I frown as I drown and I’ve lost my crown,
so while I fall down I seem like a clown.
I’m the problem that I need to face
and I’ve been going at a non-existent pace.
So when my heart breaks,
does it make a sound?

Above the surface, wrath lays with reality
and doves are displaced by calamity.
Blood in my mouth, thoughts sprayed with profanity,
hugging anger in sight, when I face my vanity.
Nudged by neglect, hoping to stray from insanity,
I look to bud into the tenets of humanity.

I commend those who resist the immense desire
to liberate their anger as a friendly fire,
but with wrath, I could mend my pain.
My eyes come into nothing of vain
as this disdain leaves my bane stained.

My words fell on the deaf ears of my peers,
so when the smoke clears, I’m free from fears.
The isolation doesn’t feel foreign
so why feel for him? Why peel for him
fruit when he has no labor yet whims?
I'll take my broken heart by the hems,
a heart that lives apart, with lights dimmed,
and make it harder without barter as I’m born again.
June 21, 2020: I feel powerless and I am angry. I’ve lost so much love from being betrayed. I’m losing more and more as people are often not what they portray. I will keep losing unless something is changed. I’ve hurt myself more with my hand open than with my fist closed, so onto the ground for myself are my ten toes.
Jun 3 · 89
Noir Nature Part II
They set us so carelessly upon the trees;
despite our wails, screams, and pleas, we
become dying fruit for the fleas.
Institutionalized and criminalized, we live a life of fear.
They sneer, jeer at the sight of us at life’s rear.
Our plight against contempt makes for a militant man
as we just try to be as real as we can.
To them, our efforts are never enough,
for them, our pain is never enough.
We strive for equality, liberty, happiness, and life.
In turn, we receive hatred, anger, and strife.
Murdered and ***** and torn next to our loved ones.
In response, we give a passion greater than the Sun’s.
All of our lives, we have had to fight.
Striking back against their wrath, destroying their blight.

They set us so wrongly upon their boat;
after we are spent, we are set to float.
I wonder about real life,
“What does it feel like?”
Torment should not be equal to pigment,
and there is nothing to warrant such abhorrent torrents.
We are not equal and never have been the same.
When we speak out, we are silenced; liberty too tamed.
They set us so harshly upon the pyre;
the extermination of desire,
the death of liberty as a killing fire.
August  29, 2017: We are being stabbed but not by the kings of the Earth. Now it’s ****** from reprehensible opportunists that want all the rhythm and none of the blues.
Jun 3 · 109
Noir Nature Part I
With tears of confusion stinging his eyes,
the boy asked his mother, “Why aren’t we the same?”
She looked lovingly at him and explained,
“We are all the same, even though we have a different frame.”
So then the question arises,
for the despair, who is to blame?
Should shame be on those who hate others just for being different?
Saddened are those who spent all of their time being so bent,
but why should my pigment be my torment?

Is this what life is supposed to be like?
Where riding your bike in the wrong area can get you a strike?
Out of line if you speak out,
about the discrimination, where the right words will cause a bout.
Our understanding seems frozen until we break out
of greed, corruption, prejudice, envy, and lying.
People dying, mothers crying, and violence because of nothing.
But anything could help when your life hangs by a string.
Strung along sheep cast their ignorance with the swing
of their crude weapons or hurtful exclaim
with intent to defame and purpose to maim.
I wonder if we really are the same?
August 5, 2017: Even in spite of the great diligence from Civil Rights leaders, the lasting aftermath of prejudice, hate, ignorance, and segregation are still felt by everyone every day. Crude ignorances we face strangles our society as a whole, not just the targeted people. This is because an unnecessary mentality traps our thinking, and our lives into cycles of despair and hurt.
All of life is dead and the Sun has set.
Wet is the battlefield with blood after the brawl.
Stenches of death and sweat from both sides,
divides and drenches the trenches.
Sounds echo eerily quiet;
quite loud and profound.
All is for naught, as the vultures of the President descend.

The celadon leader smiles as he looks upon his ****** empire.
His vicious hunger is never fulfilled and his smaragdine iniquity smothers.
He wants, no, needs more; a never-sated, rapacious desire.
A broken country built on the backs and deaths of others;
evermore he wants and he wants evermore.
An incessant life drowned in cupidity and submerged in green,
but he is never jaded. He is a ***** emerald without valor.
His unclean desire for money recklessly expands as a deep ravine.

Avarice trumps the morals,
while he spreads a pestilential malignancy through the air.
The sacred blood of innocents binds together his laurels.
But the need for greed is exponential and blinds him to his error.
The mindless masses amass themselves at his mere feet,
but his mere feats only sum to immense ignorance and hate.
As he continues to stand for nothing but hypocrisy,
and his sycophants continue to vacuously prate.
It is a lesson for us all as a warning for our souls.
Covetousness is a viridian plague with no cure.
He corrupts spirits and gains unrighteous power from the polls.
But he is no leader, he’s only a false savior siphoning from the poor.
I first wrote this nearly two years ago but I never released it until now, when things are at a boiling point. It seems like everything takes its course eventually.
May 25 · 83
Desperate Plays
I reach with outstretched hands towards
the tiers of a fading sky, with no words. And I
preach to myself to hate desperate plays.
I hide these tears by myself, dismayed
by my lack of worth. Oh, how it hurts...

To him, I flash for the flavor of friendship
feeling forever fine in my fleeting eyes.
Over him, I’ll get a grip and still trip
around the land just for his hand.
It doesn’t matter who is near,
with him, I have no fear and no tears.
My wishes are as hot glass
when he molds, he holds and folds
my prayers with his wants no matter how old.
Through everything I stay,
for these desperate plays.

To her, I head, head over heels
hoping her happiness hears my heart.
For her, I race to become better.
So gracefully, I craft an arrow to start
piercing the evils that set us apart.
I wade through brooks as a crook,
looking for how to fall deeper on her hook.
I lie, I cry, I die with her, parting
anything between us. We can never depart,
she is my restart, she is my art.
Her attention outpaces any meal,
it’s shocking as eels, that she kills,
steals, my hurt for sheer thrill with sheer will.
And yet she heals. She heals with watts
that work to change my energy so powerfully.
Through everything I stay,
for these desperate plays.
August 21, 2018: I hate being desperate. It is not the person that I want to be, but it is the person that I am. For them both.
Ferocious hearts burning with love
and emotions swirling in a tempest of passion.
Your care is of the greatest compassion
with generosity freer than doves.
Desire builds with your every move;
hope becomes our entirety.

Your harmonious voice cures my anxiety
and makes my knees buckle by your glance.
I want to show you true romance.
Let’s groove until the night dies,
with our cares in the wind and the skies
smiling down upon our affection.
An intimate flurry showing our connection,
such splendor in our grace. So divine,
so alive, we dance and thrive, I feel alive.
To you, I stride to strive and vine
your beautiful body with mine;
my partner in life I did find.
June 22, 2017: I wrote this as a show of my appreciation for Rachelle. I feel that in a relationship you should love your partner and love them out loud. Don’t hide your affection for your light.
May 16 · 66
Almost
So far and yet so close we seem
to be from the things that make us happy.
At times, our game-winning shot misses.
At times, our lovers leave us to just wishes.
Hurt, pain, and sorrow lays in our end
to a life without love or friend.
These feelings strangle and smother
our peace like the wrath of none other.

Repetition. From repeated reaches to resurgence,
to taking tyrannical triumph, to taking rejoice,
I repeatedly have nothing. Words of
“try again” and “get over it” reverberate in
my mind, rocking my resolve to sleep.
Rupturing results rips, tears through tiers of
my resilience, turning me to tears. They creep
into my dreams, upon my thrills, onto my choices,
inside my hopes, like ants in tents. With cruel intent,
every failure rends me so intense.

But how to respond?
If I show a lack of care by a loss,
“Maybe it wasn’t too serious”.
But if I reply with hurt and sadness,
“maybe you’re just overreacting”.
But only for so long can I just
“make the best out of a bad situation”.
How many times do I need to fail,
in order to succeed?
If I didn’t care so much, then
I wouldn’t hurt so much.
But what is a life lived so unlively?
Why am I wrong to make the most
of what I’m given? To wish, to hope
is seen as good ambition when it’s
a success, but when I fail then I overdid it?
May 1, 2018: Failure really *****. The feeling of being right at the start of the finish line and seeing someone just barely crossing it before you can is an awful tragedy. These failures can also be the events in life that alter and change our perceptions, thoughts, and views of the world.
Why do I love to dream
when I can barely sleep?
Under the surface, I wonder,
can I jump out the window?
May I make a leap of faith?

Within a dream, anything is mine.
New heights look divine with no limit,
hope arrives beautiful and I know it.
I’m remiss to sadness, and I’m glad this
will be as bliss as a young man’s first kiss is.
Life tastes of fine wine before I rise and shine.
I dream of a land where I have my last breath;
a place where my fears can suffer a coward’s death.
Gazing from the cliff, fords put their blossoms to bed
as the rivers expand with a hope so strong.
Blue turns red, with no regret, I get ahead
of my wrongs to write them in this song.
In this place, I face no disgrace, show my face,
I lack no faith, go at my own pace, and showcase.
Tables turned and now my dismay is prey
when my dreams turn my tomorrow into today.

Are you loyal to your dreams?
A life lived by its seams,
under the surface,
I strive to just dream.
Trust isn't what it seems
but hope hides the screams,
are you loyal to your dreams?

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming
makes goals worth chasing.
Love locks lips and lies
in my eyes under the surface.
Daydreaming as soon as day breaks
I escape, I escape, I escape
and I’m not worth chasing.
I can’t hurt under the surface,
but do you know what your worth is?

Dreams can’t abandon me
so they make for the perfect lover.
I don’t want to wake up.
It’s not born from worn scorn,
it’s made from the summer’s embrace.

Are you loyal to your dreams?
A life lived by its seams,
under the surface,
we strive to just dream.
Trust isn't what it seems
but hope hides the screams,
are you loyal to your dreams?
July 21, 2018: I love to dream. Dreams allow me to experience things that usually wouldn’t be able to happen. However, dreams supersede the sights and sounds that we get when we sleep. For me, a dream can be the source of many things.
Apr 9 · 174
An Adieu to Blue
I have to push aside your pride
because you did too much;
I can’t let you slide.
Timid and trying to hush,
I wanted to hide and deny
my despise. But despite the lies,
the spite and highs, you shy
and fly from what’s right.
I just want to go to sleep without crying.
You’re true and right while lying.
I hate what you do, my love for blue is dying.
You’re critter size but you criticize so I’m done buying
your trickery disguised as honesty. Stop trying.
January 8, 2020: We all need closure. This is mine and I’m amazing without you. It’s time to finally move on for the better. I can’t deal with your ego anymore. I won’t deal with the superbia. For you, I would have done whatever. Now, I’ll do...whatever. I don’t want to break my back just to stay in limbo anymore. Besides, you only feel tall because your blanket is so small.
Mar 25 · 150
Picture Painting
As she saunters with beauty,
an awakening and arousing aroma arise in the air.
A harmonious combination composed of tropical islands
and Heaven’s love carries with her, attracting all around her.
Her cherubic long, brown hair reflects and shimmers
light with a powerful intensity.
She’s far too strong to deny.
Her divine fragrance coupled with her resplendent hair,
is only a small part of her wonderful persona,
that makes her the queen that she is to me.
May 3, 2017: So after I gave Rachelle (I’m going to use this name in place of their actual name for privacy reasons) that poem, we started dating. One day at lunch, she had asked for my assistance in describing her, and this is what we came up with.
Mar 24 · 89
Solar Eclipse
I am entropy again
and it’s not the same.
My energy is falling daily,
things look dark, ouch,
I’m all over these days. Umbral
shadows dashing yet slowing my ways. Luminous
photons, in my eyes, positive, but accelerating
away so negative. Fingernails, chewed.
Random urges to *****, tasting for a pink hue.
If it’s a cool night, with my pills I’ll get physical.
Eyes on the inside bruised black and blue.
Confidence approaching zero, thirsty,
I’m feeling for clear shots.
Mind is dazed, I taste the craze, and can barely rhyme.
I’m all over myself, so I’m on nothing when I see
her creep out sometimes, taking my space
blocking the Sun. I’m sad, tempest-tossed,
old shades arise when she appears;
hurt, jealousy, anger whispering.
I cry from the inside, burning tears.
I’m locked within myself once more.
Who am I? Lost but not found.
I can’t take this any longer.
Why does she pick so late
to pixelate in my mind?
She lives as I die. I beg for mercy!
Frightening, so ******* frightening,
my happiness isn’t conserved, but why?
Hopes, laughs, peace, joy, love;
broken, tears, death, fury, darkness.
I can’t survive with this mentality,
I testify I can’t touch the sky.
Do they ever truly leave us alone?
She flies over my head,
please help me. Why?
August 7, 2018: As of late, I have attempted to lead a more positive life. For the most part, it has gone well. I have begun to cherish the fact that most people look at me and see some source of positivity. It is a great feeling to have. However, there are times when that light is overshadowed. The depression just wins sometimes.
Mar 23 · 112
Perfect Release!
Mustering courage, I stepped out my front door.
Awaiting a departure, my patience was poor;  
Your enticing eyes gleamed with gold.

I gazed upon your face, questioning my luck.

Beauty personified, you admired me back,
Elevating my pressure, I started to crack.

Your saunter carried such a passion in its wake,
Our eyes intertwined; happiness is its make.
Utopia is in our embracing, and it is ours to take.
Resting my head by yours, our affection was never fake.

Being connected with you is such bliss;
Other worlds are met with every kiss.
Your hand with mine, nothing’s better than this.
Forgetting any pain, my stress is remiss.
Roaming without you; a soul so amiss.
Inside my heart is you, with no abyss.
Ethereal is your beautiful eyes and lips.
Never in your presence will the Sun eclipse.
Daylight with you, Rachelle, is my eternal wish.
April 18, 2017: Do you remember how I hinted at my passion being the reason why I wrote this whole thing? Well, this is when everything changed for me.
Mar 22 · 70
Eyes of Ambition
Such a double-edged sword is hankering;
lending way to most useful ambition
that gives inspiration to musicians.
It also can subvert our pure mindset;
corrupting our light so tragically,
as it sadly pits us against our own.
Envy is only evil when our tone
turns to tempered despise as our eyes set
upon those without any sense of debt.
We wish for positivity in life;
no stress, no hatred, no sadness, no strife.
Yet, without those joys, desires do beset
when we covet pleasures from each other,
peace and love, will our jealousy smother.
December 2, 2019: That fine line between jealousy and competition is golden; a sunflower. My eyes light up like cherries and I might smile when I see him.
My eyes try to close
as tepid sweat stratifies on my clothes.
With cold feet and a hot head,
I struggle against the bed.
Although it comes to me rarely,
the tempest feeling of tingling insensitivity,
beautifully disgusting, is quite bittersweet.
The night should be simple,
yet it’s too brutal and holds me ungentle.
And so I pop pills like pimples
to give tranquility to my mental.

They’re not enough. It’s never enough.
One cup, just one since I’m already up.
One drink turns into two and I don’t feel rough.
But I feel...an implore for more. I wouldn’t bluff,
another gulp, another gulp, and I feel stuffed
interestingly enough. But I feel… handcuffed
with both pitiful pleasure and passionate pain,
the drinks are starting to drown my brain.

I fall down under the surface,
where the thunder can’t make me nervous.
Where I can’t sunder my purpose,
where I wonder what my worth is,
wearing wonder fiery as a furnace.
Hoping to plunder my brain’s service
with a hunger to recurve this
surly slumber of unbound defervesce.

These dreams beckon me to come play and see
a weightless joy, peace, even glee
without burden. But suddenly I only awake to see
complacency; ugly gluttony keeps me company.
My emotional darkness, despair, despondency,
countered by my own chaotic nepenthe,
gives me sad servitude disguised as lying liberty.
The turmoil in my thoughts twists, turns
like mazes as my mind mends, burns
deeper, deeper, deeper down.
Just to sleep, I turn into a clown,
holding a bee for honey as it stings me.
January 28, 2019: I just look to obtain peace at night but the black hole of euphoria calls me ever closer. I just want to sleep this time, but I impact and stumble and trip and fall over the gluttony in my way. It’s just impossible for me to avoid it. But I’m just doing what I need to so that the next day comes. I just want to see tomorrow; we all do.
Baby lemme slide inside
at the midnight hour as our
skin glides so smooth on each other.
Take a ride, just get closer, don’t hide.
Your watermelon lips, sweeter than sugar; not sour.
Drown me please, for forever, not hours.
I love your taste. Tongue, up and down
to explore that place. Fingers, on your face
got me on the edge, but it’s not a race.
Hands, handling your waist with haste,
yet slow, yes slow, let’s slow down the pace.
You glow, whoa, shimmering unlike a crow.
You blow, I flow with snow that you can’t plow.
Color all in your cheeks,
us all over the sheets,
while I unfold your folds; let the passion increase.
Her rose is curling my toes;
such moonlight upon the garden.
October 18, 2019: I feel like this poem isn’t going to be very difficult to interpret.
Mar 20 · 68
What Did I Expect?
Nothing really changed. It seemed so nice,
so fun, but in the end, it was the same.
We got to know each other, I extended my hand.
She took it, giving me hope. Smiles passing
between us, only lips between us, it felt good.
Whispers of more, promises, implores, exciting.
Perhaps it would be different this time. Hopefully.
The chance of rain was zero and I was my own hero.
Finally. But finally she had enough of me.
She loved glee and took it from me. My feelings...
were approaching zero even though I did her right.
I was left for giving her what she wanted;
I just couldn’t integrate myself in her life.
I’m not sure why,
but again and again, I find myself hurting from others.
But again I have my eyes to the sky,
looking for the bluest of colors.
August 20, 2019: Does anything really change? Does it actually change or are we just stuck in these same vicious cycles of loathing?
Mar 19 · 66
just
I wear too many long sleeves,
and my eyes are just red from allergies.
I’m always somewhat full even though
the weight keeps dropping and my
stomach protests. I was going to stay in
anyways and that beer was just for the chili.
The weird smell in the air is just from the neighbors.
It’s just water in my bottle and that rattle
was just from some bath salts. I use those lighters
just for work, yes, I was just on the phone with my boss.
The music is loud just for the ambiance.
My face is just puffy in the mornings
and I was up late last night just playing some games.
Those fans are just because it’s hot up here
and that bag has just pens in it.
January 11, 2019: I want to keep this one simple. Sloth is so easy and simple.
Mar 17 · 148
Beautiful Morning
A bright Sun rose over the land with wonder,
as a warm breeze, without scald,
jostled emerald blades of grass that sharply,
yet softly whistled unlike thunder.
Jade grass covered the ground fully,
but it wasn’t jaded. No, it was captivating.
It was so simple, yet it was so lovely
for everything to come together so perfectly.
The clouds were of soft pillows; cozy
peace rested in their mere sight.
They almost seemed to float with grace
upon a clear blue sky; oh what a spectacular place!
The green grass met the sapphire sky with a kiss.
This uniting was bliss; it could inspire the remiss.
Here, there could never be an eclipse.
There was nothing amiss, no abyss, only happiness.
Blue waves quietly ebbed up the beach.
It was quite lovely to see its powerful reach;
what a beauty lies in the ability to beseech.
To reach, to breach the walls,
to teach is to bleach a fall with speech.
Hostility was not in the ocean’s movements,
as the azure water walked without fight.
The peach sands held fragile remnants
of a happy couple, with a joy of mints.
They left their remembrance and presence
upon the sands; the fresh prints of a loving dance.
The air was marked with the subtle hints
of a new, sweetly jovial fragrance.  
Birds of all kinds sang with a gathered passion;
a unified chorus of voices with a crescendo towards
the sky as a symphony so holy.
Such a wondrous horizon could call,
enthrall, even lords to its lovely sight.
How incredible, how amazing was this light.
It shined with no darkness; it was bright, pretty, sparkly.
This beautiful morning sang unlike a cacophony.
Only Heaven could rival its immaculate beauty.
It was an angelic sound with clever, heartfelt chords;
the Sun shone forwards forever.
This beautiful morning shone forever.
April 17, 2018: There lies a land in which I have yet to see. I want to go there for peace. I want the embrace of Summer.
Mar 17 · 80
impossible
I want to do the impossible.
You matter so much to me,
so here are apologies in advance,
I know you’re sorry.
Since you’re happier alone, I want to see you go.
If I was him, I’d never let you go.
I’m sad without you though.
This is so confusing for me. I feel envy,
and I feel pathetic, and I feel angry,
and I feel like this hurts us both.
Our relationship lays six feet in the ground,
my heart hasn’t ceased to pound,
and I still want to make a sound.
Thoughts of anger, fear, lay inside clenched fists,
fists that go numb when I remember your kiss.
I’d do everything over again if it would give you bliss.
I’d never meet you if it would give you bliss.
Your words were a lance through my chest,
feeling like cardiac arrest, and yes I can attest
that even though my eyes are filled with detest,
that I still love you. I miss your blue glance.
I miss you and I wish that I was good enough.
October 5, 2019: I hate how this keeps happening. It’s so confusing. I could be happy that she’s happy, even if it’s without me. I could be angry that she had my heart even with thoughts of her ex the whole time. I could be sad that yet again I’m losing someone that I seriously wanted. I could be jealous of her ex because she actually loves him. I don’t know anymore. I’m not even sure how to write this.
Mar 16 · 62
Can I Keep Still?
Mired in my mind
and running out of time
can I keep still?
Can I keep going on still?
Can I keep steeling my heart
to stand and be warm in the winter?
When terms end and we’re not friends
can you keep stealing my heart?
If you fall to another man and
I spring to a secondary plan
will we be apart?
I don’t want to shove
and I’ve basically given up
even though you’re farther than your love.
It cuts deep but still my desire must beat
but it’s musty and a bit rusty.
The divide between us must be irrational
because it keeps increasing without a rationale
and without a ration to feed your monotony.
I need to know if I can keep still
when you’re around me so parenthetically.
On the cosmetic there’s sympathy
but it feels phony and pathetic. You’re synthetic
and golden steel; gleaming with a cold beauty!
You’re athletic but you don’t carry the kinetic
energy and lack the will to work for me.
When you’re starting not to feel
and I’m losing my chill
can I keep still?
November 9, 2019: Everything feels like it’s going so fast. I just need more time; I need to breathe.
Mar 16 · 146
Refresher Lesson
Slightly less depressing, I guess
that March arched differently,
I suppose. I met her with eyes closed,
no hoes, and overloaded with heavy snow.
She was caustic and firey,
smoke frequently enrolled in her nose;
she was never parched. She would
gather wood, but the pills peeled away
the spark and she never had the fury.

I was not in tune to see flowers bloom,
but I just escaped the want for a boom.
She made me focus on her though,
her eyes so low, her mouth so slow
with ice flows, her tongue rolled
but still my tired eyes glowed.
August 17, 2019: February and most of March continued in the same way. I drank, ate, worked, took pills, cried, and repeat. At the end of March, however, I met someone who changed me.
Mar 16 · 112
Absolute Zero
January started with a bang… or
at least I wanted it to. My head hurt,
like cold dirt, it was hard to push through.
Frozen feelings filled my cup so much,
and far away flings filed away felt like crushes,
crushing me to dust, slushing up my double cup.
Fear of my mother’s sadness dissuaded the blade,
yet I yearned to learn how to soar, how to get more.
Fear of my sister missing her brother curtailed
the hail that seemed like Hell over my life that failed.
Over weeks and weakness, I tried to prevail,
to look past the veil that was in front of me. Pale
in the face, I paled in comparison to a towering cloud,
crowding me. Loud, loud, loud was the chilling sound;
no odor, but my thoughts have never been colder.
August 6, 2019: So yeah, it’s been a while. Every time I go to create and express myself, I find myself lacking. I lack enthusiasm, determination to not get distracted, and ultimately I lack the courage to say how I truly feel without exaggerations or cover-ups.
Mar 15 · 58
What I Wish Was True
So I have rightly survived my ordeal,
and I am much better because of it.
I was at the point of wanting to ****,
luckily, I pulled myself from the pit.
I can now see that true love comes from me.
Seeing life for what it really is,
achieving some independence is key.
Relenting my misery and hate with,
love for today, and hope for tomorrow.
Seeking to spread happiness, love, and care,
in order to cast away my sorrow.
Surpassing the land and walking on air.
In spite of loss I feel somewhat stronger;
I can truly doubt myself no longer.


Or so I thought
August 2, 2017: In life, you’ll have to inevitably go through some form of loss or some form of hurt. It’s a morose, but most likely necessary function of life. When this happens, it’s vital to first repair whatever damage or pain you have sustained and to then actually learn from your experiences. But obviously doing that is so much easier said than done. Sometimes it doesn't even happen.
Mar 15 · 89
Finding Greener Grass
I awoke to the crashing sound of thunder,
outside my window, I stared, placed with wonder.
The day was umbral and stormy, with no light in sight.
Cold sensations in the air, something didn’t feel right.
I searched the house, to find my Mom slumped on the floor.
She was crying and she swore that Dad left for that *****.
Emptiness filled me, and my eyes darkened with detest.
My “father” cleaved her heart beating from her chest.

When he left, he abducted something from me.
He robbed my sister’s opportunity at having a good father.
For that, I love him no longer
and hope that when he is dying no one bothers.
He robbed my mother’s peace and love
and left her doubting the realness of above.
I hate such a coward and wish that he could die a thousand deaths;
I pray that his existence would collapse as he loses his last breath.
He ruined our lives and set them in disarray,
fraying our world as soon as he left our driveway.
However, when he departed, he also replaced.
He left my mother with destabilizing depression,
he left my sister with a skepticism of man’s impression,
he left myself with a lack of self, with no exception.

For the one who takes, loses in turn.
For his life, I wish to burn and burn.
March 26, 2017: This one is about what I felt the day that my father left us. Since then, life feels like someone reassembled parts of a shattered mirror, with most of the pieces there, but the cracks from the previous trauma still clearly visible. For a while, the typical happened and I ended up blaming myself, luck, God, and everything else in search of closure and healing. It didn’t work as expected. It still doesn’t work.
Alone, I’m sitting.
A rock in the snow, how fitting.
With a heavy heart, I’m sipping.
I’m falling down and tearing up.
My woes swimming inside my double cup.
With others, I’m still by myself.
I can’t afford to go out with no wealth.
Why am I apart from them? I don’t know.
To a land without snow, I strive to go.
I try and try, but to the truth, I’m denied.
Again and again, I strive for their lies.
And I wonder why as I sit alone.
December 7, 2018: I just absolutely love being excluded. The drain of watching everyone else around you enjoy something that you weren’t invited to is below nothing else. I’d rather not be involved when my friends are enjoying something. In fact, I’d rather just be alone than with anyone else. I love being hurt.
Mar 12 · 137
Lost
Dead men suffer not
while the living rust with rot.
Streams of pain drain from my eyes,
as I too, despise this rain of demise.
Screams beam from the inside but my
outside shines somewhat bright.
Like a tempest tossing me, I’m drowning
not of passion, only despair.
Here, I cry while the night
chases away my light.
Days are bittersweet, yielding the promise
of beauty but hiding the inevitable fright.
Lucid love licks my lips lustfully, lively,
as white waves wash wildly over me,
but they can’t run free.
I wonder what is right to be.
Fury runs free, as it never clots.
My dreams twist my hopes into knots
because others do not hold the shots
from a cruel life. I fight, kick, pound,
but I can’t scream out loud.
And so I die a death without sound.
August 22, 2018: It seems as if there are times in which life likes to just simply throw everything it has at us. We lose hope, we lose parents, we lose peace, we lose lovers, we lose friends for no reason. Is life really that important anyway?
Mar 12 · 32
Reaching Out
Daylight turns dark by the sight of night
and my desperate endeavors lack light.
You keep me far beyond your hands,
but my eyes still taste of you.
Long are the nights that you fall like sands.
I would right my wrongs just to reach you.

I despise the demise in the moonrise;
I just want to reach your eyes.
I try to see why,
I try to see why,
I try to see why you deny me like Peter.
You claim to accept me, but your words
so often blur together. Like birds
you lie higher than the light of the sky;
away from a dying cry and so high you fly.
Your chaos echoes too great for me.
My heart teeters on the edge of sanity;
it’s the summer and winter of Demeter.
These nights never die, they live forever.
Why can’t our time just tick together?
Each time that I look at you, it feels as if a dementor
is leeching me, as I try to see why.

Daylight turns dark by the sight of night
and my desperate endeavors lack light.
You keep me far beyond your hands,
but my eyes still taste of you.
Long are the nights that you fall like sands.
I would right my wrongs just to reach you.

I strive for your thoughts and attention
and only you can thin the tension within.
But our days just haze woefully gray.
It sets my heart to blaze,
but to you it doesn’t faze.

My thoughts of you only continue to distend
without end. But to my chagrin,
you get under my skin, you make the nights dim,
you cause me to grin. But against you I can’t swim,
I’m a fish without a fin; these nights are so grim.
But I just want to know your ways,
how do you put me in such a craze?
How is your gaze brighter than the Sun’s rays?
But to the rim I can reach with your praise.
These days are up to the brim with mayhem.
I don’t know where to go. What to do while
everything feels like it’s falling apart.
I hate this, it’s not fun for me.
Why does day and night feel the same?

Daylight turns dark by the sight of night
and my desperate endeavors lack light.
You keep me far beyond your hands,
but my eyes still taste of you.
Long are the nights that you fall like sands.
I would right my wrongs just to reach you.

I know that Heaven is so close
because all I see is your face.
Although for us, it’s slower than the snow
blowing without woe. Your
glow grows my core and sets me to soar
towards a heavenly embrace. Facing
my fears with you near, I have no foe.
But it hurts to be so close and so far;
am I stuck in tar? I want us to have space
but I just want our embrace and so
to your reach, I give chase.
I race to meet your pace;
is this a coup de grace or my disgrace?
Can my adoration reach higher than the floor?
I don’t know if Heaven is that far.
I want to forego this unblissful inflow
of the unknowing that comes from below
those heavenly downpours. But I am so poor!
Poor in my heart and alone with sorrow,
but I can be rich with your reach.
Heaven promises beauty in your mere glance.
Oh! I’m blessed with sweet deliverance!
With you, I need just one dance.
For you, I’ll take any chance.
Your reach is my future’s finance.
June 3, 2018: How can someone truly connect with someone else if they can’t even get within their arms?
Mar 6 · 153
Empty Nights
The days haze woefully gray
as I sit here, alone, and my blaze decays.
Empty promises never go away,
and so I swear to close their place
in my desperate heart. But the night
lives as long as it is tenebrous. I’ve tried
to hide, to bide my time until they see
the type of person that I can be. To me,
it was a waste; they didn’t want to be
the friend that I needed. And so I pleaded
with myself to never be so weak. But the ends
of my week stayed littered with fleeting
hopes to be included, to be one of them.

I attempted to be bold and put my fears on hold
because regret lives longer than the night.
And yet I remain here unnoticed and unwanted. I hate
how my doubt distends and bends so bitterly.
But perhaps it is my fate? Am I destined to be late
from the gaze of my peers; to be deaf in their ears?
But I can’t deny that it hurts as I am a blur
in the vision of my friends. My patience is evasive.
I am set to wait, while they are sated and I hate it.

The night is a heavyweight and I am too weak.
I strive to not be so jealous. I wish to not feel so much.
I want to need myself more. But the night is not light,
it is an empty reach, stinging with envy. My eyes
are sorrowed by such a shade, but they despise
by their lonesome. So loathsome is the blight
that comes with the lonely night. It arrives
much unlike a good knight. It lurks there despite
my might, and it is never defeated when we fight.
The white of daylight is gone by the sight of the night...
May 28, 2018: The prospect of a lack of friendship is both complex and scary. Being alone is a strange feeling, in that while I would love to be more independent, it still hurts to be rejected or ignored by people.
Mar 5 · 82
Destitute Despondent
Waves of sadness make me hostage.
I’m broken down, taxed, and can’t pay homage
to the ones who love me because they won’t exist.
My determination? Destitute. My drive? Despondent.
I’m tired and tied in *******; beatings make me blind.
Fearing too much of being not enough; timidly
with flight or fight, I’m frozen and stuck behind.
Losing my hope is a snowball decreasing
my peace of mind, but increasing proclivity
for this piece of mine to knock off a piece of mind.

The terror taking thoughts as I tear a wrist.
Mentally. In my mind, I paint vividly.
Nothing. My writing lacks imagery;
temerity isn’t consistent and it’s not fair to me.
With this life, I feel disparity. Please stop the abuse,
it’s not even a rarity. I need care for me.
The blues keep playing until tears produce.
Smiles are only arriving rarely; numbly
I’m barely feeling it a little bit.
I’m neutral, where’s polarity?
Prosperity? I’m probably spilling it.
Making a mistake seems so scary
when its dreams, seduces, and reduces,
your will to go on because of the bruises.
And when I take another hit squarely
to the chest, I’ll just cry and take another hit
to the chest, until they’re enthused and I’m used.
November 2, 2019: So I watched a video on having high-functional depression and it made a lot of points that applied to me. There are days when I feel really good and I forget the things that give me grief. Then some other days I feel so awful that I can just barely go to my hardest class and I struggle through a five-hour shift. It’s so hard some days.
Mar 4 · 102
I Am Alive!
I lived through you abandoning me.
There was a time that I showed you glee,
but now I could never do that again.
You are not a father, you only bring rain.
Broken from your chains, forever am I free.

You said that we were friends, but now I see.
Where there was once care, there is nothing.
Even though our friendship has been slain,
I lived.

We shared a love soaked with beauty,
until you stopped loving and tossed the key;
to my heart, you brought care, but then replaced it with pain.
No longer do I see you in every woman, and every window pane.
By embracing myself and disdaining your vain, I lived.
August 9, 2017: Through my up and down experiences of the summer, I tried to learn to accept that not having someone appreciate you is not a failure for yourself, but a chance for change within and for yourself. In fact, self-acceptance is paramount because, at the end of the day, we have to live with the things that we have done. In order to have that semblance of inner peace, we can’t be caught on the words and actions of other people.
Mar 3 · 80
Cascading Waves
How are these tears so cold?
I flinch and shiver from each river.
The slow waters, freezes on my chin,
seeps into sore skin. It hurts.
Each drop as a hot coal, not cold,
timid yet so bold burns my eyes.
It’s so hard to type or even write.
Cascading waves, down my face,
as my faith and all fades away.
Are my tears even worth pushing away?
Shapes blurry, the water’s murky,
you say sorry but still hurt me.
Can you please stop hurting me?
Calm the entropy. You’re so empty.
Mercy! Please stop hurting me;
I can’t deal with the lack of gl—
August 15, 2018: What’s the purpose of hurting someone else? Are you really better if all your gains came from others?
No one’s perfect, but I feel worthless sometimes.
My crimes are not legal offenses but are enzymes
that define, divide, and decline my spine.
It’s cancer unbenign to see wine derived
from her water. But I would see it and still love her.
I would slaughter my inhibitions to be her lover;
to concur with her words, offer her what she prefers.
I would burr my feelings for others to spur my feelings for her.

For her, I would give her whatever she deserves. But how sad,
how mad, how bad is that? To make my heart clad
with false hopes and rash rushes isn’t a gladness.
It is a tempting sadness that accesses and addresses
my weaknesses. Weaknesses that slither and slide
like snakes in my eyes. So sweet are her dresses,
so seductive is her sight. She makes my mind
sad with sycophant sensations, and we turn to messes.
May 6, 2018: So, I could sit here and write about how I’m a great person who is selfless, humble, never insecure, and so on. I could say how every time that I’ve felt hurt that it was never my own doing, that it was always someone else’s fault. I could tell you that every time was beautiful, requited, and honorable. That would be lying though.

— The End —